


Jumping Mad

by Fire_Bear



Series: It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas [4]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Chaos, Christmas, Christmas Jumpers, Comedy, Just the Normal World Meetings Really, M/M, Nations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-07 18:48:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8812027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fire_Bear/pseuds/Fire_Bear
Summary: England loses a bet against France, Prussia and Spain and must do a forfeit. This involves a lot of Christmas jumpers. With the World Meetings coming up, it's inevitable that he'll have to wear them in the presence of the other nations...





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zeplerfer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeplerfer/gifts).



> Firstly, this is another one for the same prompt as before.
> 
> Secondly, I clearly didn't know what people meant by 'ugly' Christmas jumpers. So. Whoops. 
> 
> Thirdly... This was totally meant to end differently but it didn't flow that way and, well, whoops.

“No!” England cried, unable to believe what had just happened. “No!” he repeated and threw his pool cue onto the table. “It... The table! There's got to be something wrong with the table!”

“Don't try to pin the blame on an inanimate object, England,” said Prussia, grinning widely. “The only reason you lost is 'cause you're rubbish at this.”

“I am not! I'm telling you, I beat America at pool all the time!”

“Are you sure he's not just letting you win?” asked Spain, looking happy.

England glared at him. “No. He's not.” He paused, remembering. “Though... I suppose he _did_ make the balls shoot off the table a few times...”

“Wait, England,” said France, raising his eyebrows. “Are you trying to say that America's too strong to properly play pool?”

“'Properly play pool'?” said Prussia. “Is that a new tongue twister?”

The three of them laughed while England tried to resist the urge to break a pool cue. Taking a breath, England decided to face the inevitable. “Well?” he demanded. “What's my forfeit?”

“Oh, well, you were so sure you'd win that I'll have to consult with my friends here,” France told him. “Ah, I'm just glad I still get to carry mistletoe around – my Christmas tradition lives on!”

Grumbling, Arthur turned to lean against the pool table, folding his arms. Hopefully, whatever they came up with wouldn't be too embarrassing. After all, there were a series of World Meetings to go to next week and they could end up snowed in, since they were being hosted by Canada. At least, that's what everyone was assuming. People were talking about celebrating Christmas there, though England loathed that idea. He preferred a quiet, _calm_ Christmas.

Not that he'd been getting any of those recently.

“Right!” said France, suddenly, breaking away from the impromptu huddle. “From now until Christmas, you have to wear a different – _different_ – ugly Christmas jumper each day.”

Images flashed into England's head and he blanched. “No. No, that- The World Meetings...”

“You need to wear them to them, too,” Spain insisted.

“And where am I going to get them?” England countered. “I can't afford all that.”

“I'm sure we can scrape something together, right?” Prussia said. “Though I'll be borrowing from West...”

All three of them grinned wickedly at England as he struggled to find another reason why they couldn't do it. Their expressions indicated that he wasn't going to find a way out if it...

* * *

It started with fairly mild ugly jumpers.

England had returned home and been confronted with several packages the next day, two each from the three troublemakers, enough to last him until they all reached Canada. There was even a note that said, for the first few days, he would have to wear the jumper and send them pictures. In addition to that, England had to take pictures of himself wearing the jumper whilst at work or outside so that he was visible to his people.

He obliged with a Santa jumper, a reindeer, a snowman, one with snowflakes, a penguin and one which was actually an abomination of patterns and colours. The last one he had made sure only to wear for the time it took to take the picture in his own street. France hadn't been happy but he'd begrudgingly accepted that England had been seen outside with it.

They met him at the airport in Ottawa with sly grins.

“Can't you give me a moment's peace?” England demanded, rolling his eyes at them.

“Well, you've run out of jumpers, dear England,” France explained, lifting a carrier bag into England's line of sight. “We couldn't have that, could we?”

“Tsk. Fine.” England took off the jumper he had been wearing, a _normal_ thick blue number, and accepted the bag. Pulling the thing out, he realised instantly that there was far too much pink and pale blue. Shaking it out, he stared down at Elsa and Anna wishing people a 'Merry Christmas'. “No,” he said.

“Oui,” said France, his grin widening.

“Ja,” Prussia sang, looking as though he'd been told he could live in a beer vat.

“Sí,” Spain added, looking far too creepily pleased.

Cursing, England pulled on the jumper. Somehow, it was a little too big on him, the sleeves covering half his hands as well and the hem fell down to past his hips. As soon as he had it on, Prussia took several pictures. Thankfully, England had the excuse of the cold outside the airport to cover the jumper with his thick, woollen coat. Unfortunately, his schedule had meant that the three Stooges were picking him up to take him directly to the first World Meeting of the week.

 _Everyone_ was going to see the embarrassing jumper.

Trying to think of a way to get out of people seeing it, England was deep in thought for the ride to the meeting. Surprisingly, his three companions kept quiet. He had been expecting ridicule so the lack thereof made him suspicious. Did they have something else up their sleeve?

Once they had reached the hotel the meetings would be taking place in, they went inside. England dropped off his things and would have changed out of the jumper had France not accompanied him and watched him with beady eyes. With no way out that came to mind, England ended up entering the large venue room still wearing the blasted jumper. Everyone stilled when they noticed him but he tried to ignore them and strode to his seat. As soon as he had sat down, the chatter erupted once more, everyone staring at him. France, Prussia (why was he even _at_ the meeting?) and Spain laughed heartily as they spoke with Denmark who looked far too amused for England's liking.

“Hey,” said a voice, suddenly at his elbow.

Startled, England spun to face America who was blinking down at him in bewilderment. “Oh,” Arthur breathed. “It's you.”

“What're you wearing?” America asked.

England scowled. “I lost a bet, okay? _Those idiots_ are making me wear a Christmas jumper every day till Christmas.”

“Oh, hey, that's pretty cool! And you've got Anna and Elsa: that's real magical, yeah?” America grinned at England, seemingly pleased with what he'd said.

All England could do was gape at him. Was he openly mocking him to his face? It made his blood run cold and boil with fury at the same time. Before he could gather himself to speak, however, Germany took over from Canada as the host and shouted everyone into their seats. America disappeared with a “See ya!” and England was left with France and Prussia for company.

* * *

A snowman skiing. That was what was on the blue jumper England was handed the next morning.

In all honesty, it was a lot better than the Frozen jumper the day before. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad. Then England remembered the stares and laughter from the day before and he cringed. No doubt it would be the same today. Sighing, he pulled it on, wishing he'd never told those three that he could beat America at pool. And he could – the younger nation seemed to get overly excited when they played and messed up his shots. But nobody would believe it now.

When it was finally time for the meeting, England took a deep breath and forced himself to stalk through the doors as if nothing was wrong. Of course, he couldn't help noticing that there were a lot more nations on time than normal. It seemed he had garnered an audience. Inwardly cursing, he strode towards his seat which had, apparently, been moved. Probably because he'd punched France in the stomach the day before. Now, he was to sit with America on one side and Canada on the other.

Sitting down, England let out a heavy sigh. He wasn't sure he'd last the whole week with the nations and all these jumpers. Hopefully, they wouldn't be snowed in and he could go home to hide. If his brothers weren't around, at least. France would probably tell them about the forfeit, the git. He clenched his fists and tried to remember to breathe evenly and not punch in France's face.

“Are you all right, England?” said a voice and England was once more startled. Turning, he found Canada sitting in his seat, Kumajirou curled at his feet.

“Oh!” England said before he remembered to try to act less surprised. “Ah, I'm sorry, Canada. I didn't see you arrive.”

“Um...” Canada seemed about to say something, looking quite apologetic when a louder voice interrupted.

“England! Are you still wearing awesome Christmas jumpers? That looks amazing!”

Turning to his other side, England scowled at America. “What are you talking about? This is an 'ugly' Christmas jumper, you know.”

“It looks good on you,” America told him as he plopped onto his chair with a happy, oblivious grin. “Suits you. You should wear Christmas jumpers every year.”

“Why would I?” England snapped, growing annoyed with America's obvious mockery.

Blinking, America tilted his head. “Why are you angry? Cheer up! It's nearly Christmas! I mean, you're wearing the right outfit for it. You could be the Christmas Spirit personified, you know.”

“I have quite enough work being England,” he replied, dryly.

“I could help!”

“I remember your help,” England retorted. “Didn't you try being Santa via Amazon?”

America pouted. “Yeah? So? It worked, didn't it?”

“Um,” said Canada, sounding concerned.

“That is _not_ the way you do Christmas.”

“But _you_ were the one who went through the window with a sword or something, didn't you?”

“Tsk. That Frog's telling lie-”

“ENOUGH!” roared Germany, startling England and America into shutting up. “This meeting is a serious matter! Please refrain from talking about the C-word until the meetings are finished.”

Cowed, both America and England nodded in the face of Germany's glare. And so the meeting started quite professionally. It didn't last, of course, but at least Germany had tried.

* * *

A Christmas tree. With tinsel sewn into it. And little baubles attached. It looked hideous. England was beginning to lose the will to turn up to the meetings. Maybe he could get away with sending pictures to France and the others and just hide in his room.

But, as Germany had said, the meetings _were_ supposed to be serious. So he pulled on the horrid thing and made his way down to the meeting room. This time, it wasn't only the nations who were laughing at him; he also passed several other people in the halls. They stared after him, snorting with laughter once they thought he was out of earshot.

If he had been on the _Royal Lion_ , he'd definitely have been handing out punishments.

Reaching the room, England threw open the door and marched through, glaring around at those who were already there, _daring_ them to say anything. He must have gotten his displeasure across because Estonia and Lithuania flinched and turned away. Very quickly, nobody was looking at him, carefully making sure to avoid his gaze.

Of course, America was never one to read the atmosphere.

“England!” he cried, appearing in front of him. “Wow! Look at that one! That's got to be the best jumper I've seen yet. You look very Christmassy. And, what's the word... Ah, dashing!” America grinned at England, obviously proud of what he had just said.

Shocked, England would probably have stayed where he was had it not been for France. Somehow, England had completely missed France's presence in the room and the other nation, standing with Canada, had been nearby for America's declaration. In the silence, France sniggered, hurriedly turning it into a cough when England's wide eyes swivelled towards him and narrowed. Then, once France had bit his lip to attempt to keep a straight face, England turned his glare back to America.

“Shut up,” he growled, struggling to keep his fists at his side.

“Huh?” said America.

“I _know_ I look stupid. You don't need to mock me as well!”

“What?” America's frozen smile slipped into a confused frown. “What, wait, no. I really mean it. You look-”

“Stop it!” England yelled. “Just-” Movement caught his eye and he glanced around at the staring nations. “Forget it.” Turning to Canada (the poor nation flinched), England said, “Please take notes for me.” And he spun on his heel and left the room.

* * *

England thought he'd be able to escape everyone entirely but America caught up with him at the door to the hotel. He had just remembered that he didn't have his coat and that he was in Canada in the winter; he'd turned to return to his room in order to either grab his coat or take the jumper off. Unfortunately, America was there, crossing the foyer towards him. England froze at the sight, wondering if he should just go out anyway. That hesitation meant that America reached him, stopping with his hands on his hips.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“Away,” England said and decided to head to the lifts. He dodged around America and stalked off but he could hear America keeping pace.

“You didn't need to yell like that, you know.”

“Why not?” England snapped, casting a dark look at America.

“Because I really meant what I said,” America replied, hitting the button to summon the lift just as England reached for it himself.

Clicking his tongue, England pulled his hand back and folded his arms, vaguely hoping that it would hide the jumper from anyone about to get off the lift. “Yes, of course you did,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“England,” said America and his tone was serious. It made England look up in surprise to find America frowning at him again. “I'm telling you the truth.”

Confused, England shook his head. “Why would you? I don't understand why you would _say_ something like that. Or why you would even think that. Who in their right mind thinks these jumpers are 'cool'?”

America pouted. “ _I_ like them. They're fun and, y'know, cheer people with just a glance. They suit you.”

They fell into silence, both of them contemplating what America had just said. Realisation dawned on both of them at the same time and they both turned red. America quickly looked away but England could only stare at him in shock. Did America really feel better upon seeing him? Why? The last time England had been aware that America enjoyed seeing him upon his arrival was when America had been small.

“You... You really...?”

“Ahahaha!” cried America, looking this way and that, obviously trying to escape from answering. “I, er- Oh, look! The elevator's here!”

Indeed, there was a ding and the doors opened onto the empty car. England stepped forward but stopped between the doors when he realised that America wasn't following. He had thought America would continue the conversation but the younger nation had, instead, stepped backwards. “What are you doing?” England asked. “You-”

“I should get back to the meeting, right? Can't have you- Y'know.” Shrugging, America hurried off, leaving a rather confused England to step into the lift properly.

Catching sight of himself in the mirror, England eyed his outfit, the smart trousers clashing with the jumper. He really looked ridiculous. But America had seemed sincere when he'd claimed they suited him. Perhaps cheering people up wasn't so bad... And, now that he thought about it, America had looked so happy to see him while he was wearing the jumpers.

The lift stopped on his floor and, calmer than before, England headed to his room, intent on changing into a better outfit. He had been seen in the jumper so he was still carrying out the forfeit. But, after America's confession, maybe he could wear the other jumpers as well. After all, they weren't _that_ bad.

(He continued thinking this until the next morning when he was handed a multi-coloured jumper with tiny reindeer, Santas, snowmen and gingerbread men on them. To set an example, he wore it to the meeting, stripped it off after Germany had called order and set it alight right in the middle of the table. It was another chaotic day but America was happy and England couldn't bring himself to stay furious.)


End file.
